The Gift of the Magi
by Zephyr Analea Mewtwo's Amore
Summary: a Christmas story based off of O. Henry's ironic tale, "The Gift of the Magi". we do not own the original story, and never will.


ZAMA: Season's Greetings all! Here is a lil fic based offa tha story by O. Henry, "The Gift of the Magi". Hope ya enjoy!  
  
NeoMegaMan: Whee!! I gave her the idea!! Now for food!! **glomps the kitchen, even the sink** Okay, thats enough. Bye now! **runz away like mad**  
  
ZAMA: ummm, well, yes. He did. We were listenin to this AWESOME version of "Carol of the Bells" and spoutin off random plots that the song triggered in our minds, then he came up with the idea for this. Now, since he was busy, I typed it up. We do NO own "The Gift of the Magi" OR "Carol of the Bells". Nother random note tho; this was done at 1:08/2:08 AM. So if its confusing, blame the time.  
  
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- + PROLOUGE + -  
  
Christmas Day draws near, and all the rich are alit with cheer. Yet, the poor are cast with fear. The giving of gifts, and Ancient tradition, many-a-spirit will lift, but grief it will cause, due to the currency laws.  
  
On an island that seems to be from nineteenth-century London, a castle looms amidst the fog, in the center of the bustle. It is a very cold night, snow a-glitter all around, the island protected by a wall of Icebergs. This one island is called Anastasia. It is where the fabled Super Smash Brothers are holding their Melee tournament. Allow us to move on, to a small family of interest here. The two are very poor, yet love each other dearly, even through all the hardships and ridicule they face. They are often looked down upon, not only in their social status and strengths, but also in height. Shall we see what misfortune they will be getting into upon this weary night?  
  
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- + THE GIFT OF THE MAGI + -  
  
Jigglypuff slowly paced through her room. She had counted, and counted, and counted again. As she finally came to the realization of the numbers, she sank down on the couch and cried. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. That was all Jigglypuff was able to muster to buy her sweet boyfriend, Kirby, a Christmas Gift.  
  
The two of them were very poor. Neither won enough battles in the competition to win much money at all. Twenty dollars a week was all that was won. And that isn't much, considering expenses of food and shelter.  
  
Jigglypuff stood, regained her composure, and walked to the washroom to tend to her cheeks with a powder rag. She walked back to the window and stood, looking dully out over the grey forms of two fellow Smashers practicing by the grey wall, in the grey background. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Kirby a present. She had been saving every penny she had for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Kirby. Her Kirby. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him something fine and rare and sterling - something just a little bit near being worthy of the honour of being owned by Jim.  
  
This one specific room was bare of all rugs, to enhance the echo, and the walls were soundproofed. This greatly amplified one's voice in song, and was a great help to anyone who would practice singing, and listen to their echo. But it took a good ear to catch a perfect replica of one's voice. Jigglypuff, her acute hearing being attuned to the tiny quiet voices of her friends, was very good at this.  
  
Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the wall. She rapidly pulled out her Markerphone and started to sing. Now, there were two possessions in the young couples household in which they took a mighty pride. One was Kirby's Warp Star that had been handed down through the generations and had aided him in many adventures. The other was Jigglypuff's Markerphone, which she wore as an accessory in her hair just to show it off. Had the former owner of Lon Lon Ranch, now famous singer, Malon lived in the apartment adjacent the air-shaft, Jigglypuff would have opened the window, pulled out her Markerphone, and sang just to depreciate Malon's beautiful voice. Had Captain Douglas Falcon been parked right by Kirby in the garage, Kirby would polish his Warp Star, just to see the captain Falcon Punch the nearest car into oblivion from envy.  
  
So now Jigglypuff's beautiful voice bounced off the walls, ringing and streaming like an orchestra of Heavenly Bells. It reached a climactic note, then she stopped. She took the cap off and drew on the face of a random rat that fell asleep to her enchanting lullaby. She startled as she heard a crash, and looked up to the window. Well, what used to be the window. A random shadow ball had flown through again, from the battle below, and broke it. She faltered as a tear or two splashed on the cold wooden floor.  
  
On went her old brown jacket, on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts she fluttered out the door and down the street.  
  
Where she stopped the sign read: "Mme. Waffle. Music goods of all kinds." One flight up Jigglypuff ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the "Waffle".  
  
"Will you buy my Markerphone?" asked Jigglypuff.  
  
"I buy those," said Madame. "Take her fer a test run and les have a sight at the looks of it."  
  
Out rippled the Beautiful cascade of song.  
  
"Twenty dollars," said Madame, listening with a practiced ear.  
  
"Give it to me quick," said Jigglypuff.  
  
Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Kirby's present.  
  
She found it at last. It surely had been made for Kirby and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a set of armor made of platinum, to be used with Warp Stars. It was pompous and striking in design, properly proclaiming its value by both substance and ornamentation. It was even worthy of The Warp Star. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Kirby's. It was like him. Boldness and value. The description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. Wearing that suit while Kirby rode his Warp Star he might be properly giddy to go flying in any company. Grand as the Star was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the rough leather suit that he used in place of proper protective armor.  
  
When Jigglypuff reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her music folder and flipped to her warm- ups page and went to work practicing without her Markerphone.  
  
Within forty minutes her voice was raps, making her sound like a truant schoolboy. She paused to judge her singing carefully and critically.  
  
"If Kirby doesn't kill me," she said to herself, "before he takes a second look at me, he'll say I sound like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do - oh! What could I do with a dollar and eighty-seven cents?"  
  
At 7 o'clock the soda was poured and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove, hot and ready to cook the chops.  
  
Kirby was never late. Jigglypuff folded the Suit on her lap and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit of saying little silent prayers about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: "Please Mew, make him think I am still a good singer."  
  
The door opened and Kirby stepped in and closed it. He looked pale and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only nineteen - and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves.  
  
Kirby stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of a quail. His eyes were fixed upon Jigglypuff, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face. Jigglypuff wriggled off the table and went for him.  
  
"Kirby, darling," she cried, "don't look at me that way. I went and sold my Markerphone because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. I'll get a new one in time - you won't mind, will you? I just had to do it. I have a keen eye for things such as that. Say 'Merry Christmas', Kirby, and let's be happy. You don't know what a nice - what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you."  
  
"You've sold your Markerphone?" asked Kirby, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet, even after the hardest mental labour.  
  
"sold," said Jigglypuff. "Don't you like me just as well, anyhow? I'm me without my Markerphone, ain't I?"  
  
"Kirby looked about the room curiously.  
  
"You say your Markerphone is gone?" he said, with an air almost of idiocy.  
  
"You needn't look for it," said Jigglypuff. "It's sold, I tell you - sold and gone, too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me boy, for it went for you. Maybe the ink in my Markerphone was numbered," she went on with a sudden serious sweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Kirby?"  
  
out of his trance Kirby seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Jigglypuff. For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year - what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. The Magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. This dark assertion will be illuminated later on.  
  
Kirby drew a remote out of his pocket, pointed it at the wall, pressed a button, and a door opened up. Behind it was a large package.  
  
"Don't make any mistake, Jiggly," he said, "about me. I don't think there's anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going awhile at first."  
  
Pink fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! A quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.  
  
For there sat the stage - the beautiful stage, side and back, that Jigglypuff had worshipped for a long time in a Broadway window. A high stage, complete with a spiffy light arrangement, and the shell backing - just the right arrangement to amplify a beautiful song. It was expensive, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over it without the least hopes of possession. And now, it was hers, but the writing utensil that should have accompanied it was gone.  
  
But she hugged one of the lights to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: "I find things so fast, Kirby!"  
  
And the Jigglypuff leapt up like a little singed cat and cried, "oh, oh!"  
  
Kirby had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upond her open palms. The dull precious fabric seemes to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.  
  
"Isn't it a dandy, Kirby? I hunted all over town to find it. You'll to fly a hundred times a day now. Put it on and get on your Warp Star. I wanna see how they look on you."  
  
Instead of obeying, Kirby tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.  
  
"Jiggly," said he, "let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em awhile. They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the Star to get the money to buy your stage. And now suppose you put the chops on."  
  
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ZAMA: alright, there it is. Our Christmas story. Hope you enjoyed, and please review! 


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